Disclaimer: No, a thousand times no!
Author's Note: Wow, thank you so much for all the amazing responses to the last chapter. It's definitely a truly awful thing that happened to Dumbledore. He's done some pretty sketchy things, but you're right. He doesn't deserve that. You'll definitely see a lot of ramifications from this horror.
By the way, I wanted to acknowledge one of my reviewers from chapter 33 that mentioned that they had lost two of their siblings. I did send you a PM, but I'm not sure if you saw it. So I wanted to say here that I am incredibly sorry for your losses too, and thank you so much for reaching out to me. You're right - time doesn't necessarily heal the wounds from losing my brother, but it definitely does blunt the edges. I am sending all my best wishes to you.
Okay, here's the next chapter. I hope you all enjoy it.
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Amelia Bones sighed as she Apparated to the Ministry of Magic to start yet another workday. Once she was in the atrium, she was greeted with the usual hustle and bustle of another normal day at work. She kept her stiff, no-nonsense posture, but inside, she was completely and utterly exhausted.
It was now the middle of the second week of August, and it had been a very difficult summer. Whenever she was in the same room as Minister Cornelius Fudge, she wanted to throttle him. It was a very uncharitable thing to think about the Minister of Magic, but it was true. It was very hard for her to keep her professional decorum when around the incredibly stubborn, obstinate, idiotic man.
Her niece, Susan, was either furious or grief-stricken. She had spent a lot of time with her best friend, Hannah Abbott, as they mourned for Cedric together. When Amelia was at work, Susan was always at Hannah's. She was infinitely glad that the two girls had each other.
The anger Susan was displaying was for two reasons: the fact that Cedric had been murdered in such a vicious way and barely anyone was acknowledging the true culprit, and the fact that Harry Potter had been treated so abominably and he'd had to go into hiding. Her fury at the Hogwarts staff was extremely apparent as well. Amelia weathered the emotional storm with her, and there wasn't a day that went by that she didn't think of her brother, sister-in-law, and their children that had been cruelly murdered by the same monsters that had taken Cedric from her niece.
The talk of Harry Potter was very prevalent in the Ministry, and Amelia had to keep her own fury at bay. The fate of Albus Dumbledore was also mentioned a lot. Amelia couldn't understand what had happened at that school in the last few years. She had always respected Dumbledore in the past, but there was something about his actions of late that had struck her wrongly. It was hard for her to slot the puzzle of his behavior together into something she could comprehend.
As she walked to her office, she said her usual hellos to everyone she passed. Rufus Scrimgeour was there, and he nodded to her. He was the head of the Auror Department, and he had a very serious demeanor. He kept his opinions to himself, however, and Amelia didn't know whether he believed in Voldemort's return or not. He conducted himself as he always had, and he held his Aurors to very high standards.
She sat down in her office chair, as ready as she could ever be for what would happen that day. Little did she know that today would be very different from the normal humdrum routine she'd dealt with for the last month.
An owl came fluttering into her office, but this wasn't unusual. Amelia sighed and accepted the piece of parchment it offered, wondering what the correspondence would contain this time.
As she read farther and farther down the page, the world started to spin around her. She was suddenly so cold as a bone-chilling, numbing horror seized her heart. The words on the page blurred before her, barely seeming to be real. In all the years she'd worked in wizarding law enforcement, she could never have imagined something like this.
After she had finished reading, there was only one thing on her mind - handing this to Rufus Scrimgeour. The man had to do what must be done. He was obsessed with maintaining the proper protocol, and this particular matter couldn't be ignored.
Her body prickled all over at the thoughts racing through her mind. In all her years of being on this Earth, she didn't think she had ever felt so disgusted or angry. Or guilty, for that matter.
She'd always had a sinking feeling that Fudge was corrupt. He was all about himself, wanting to do anything to advance his career. If there were any mistakes made, he hushed them up. He had never been willing to own up to anything.
But this - this took the bloody cake. For the first time in her entire career, she wanted to forget decorum. She wanted to spit and swear and scream at the so-called Minister of Magic until her mouth and throat no longer worked. There were other things she wanted to do to him that she never would have imagined she was capable of. Amelia Bones was not a violent person, but this letter from Arnold Dixon brought out a side of her she had only realized she possessed once - when her family was murdered in cold blood. She hadn't acted on it then, and she knew she wouldn't now. Only in her own fantasies would she fulfil her deepest wishes.
In reality, she got up from her chair and went to find Scrimgeour. She was determined that by the end of the day today, Cornelius Fudge would be in the very holding cell that Albus Dumbledore had been tortured - yes, tortured and violated - in.
xxx
Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge was sitting in his office, looking at the usual mound of paperwork Percy Weasley had filled out for him. His mouth seemed to be in a permanent frown these days as he ruminated on everything that had happened in the past month.
The two people he was most after, Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter ... it was as though they had disappeared off the face of the Earth. It was infuriating beyond belief; his quarry had hidden from him and they were nowhere to be found.
Harry Potter ... that boy would lead the wizarding world to ruin. That boy was a menace if Cornelius ever saw one. The memories of the Third Task were on a constant loop in his mind ever since it had happened - Harry's red, blotchy face as he held onto the Diggory boy, sobbing and screaming that You-Know-Who was back. He always heard his own voice proclaiming fearfully, "We need to move the body! There're too many people!" He remembered Mr. Diggory howling like a wild animal while Cedric's vacant, lifeless eyes stared into nothingness. Why was it that so many people died with their eyes open? he thought bitterly as another pair from his past came to haunt him. Merlin, he hated Lena for coming back to him even all these years later. The bitterness he felt towards her and their failed relationship was ever-present.
His mind always circled back to the day after Dumbledore had been arrested. Even under questioning from the Aurors, he'd been so damned insistent that You-Know-Who was back. Fudge simply refused to believe it. Despite seeing Harry in the hospital wing with a bandaged arm and obviously in both physical and emotional pain, he didn't believe it. Diggory must have fought back, that was all. The boy had been seventeen years old and perfectly good at defending himself, if his success in the Triwizard Tournament was anything to go by. He wouldn't have let Potter hurt him without a fight. It was just awful that Potter had beaten him - but his injuries must have been from Diggory's desperate attempts to survive the encounter.
Then, there was the Dark Mark on Severus Snape's arm. Fudge had felt sick to his stomach at seeing it - legitimate bile had risen up his throat, stomach acid bubbling inside him. But that still couldn't mean You-Know-Who was back. He knew what that symbol meant, but he was determined not to believe that the most powerful dark wizard in a century had returned. When you died, you bloody died. That was all there was to it.
The next day, the Aurors had received a tip from one of the Hogwarts staff about the criminal actions of the Potter boy. He felt vindicated at this, and was looking forward to seeing the little delinquent sitting in one of the Ministry holding cells. For Merlin's sake, the boy had blown up his aunt on his thirteenth birthday! Were there so many in the wizarding world that were too blind to see the truth?
But Potter had eluded them. His Aurors had failed to retrieve the boy, but they'd gotten Dumbledore instead. Dumbledore, who was all too willing to defend the boy's honor. Dumbledore, who was foolish enough to hire werewolves and half-giants to teach in a school full of children. Dumbledore, who had been too ridiculously trusting to see that there was an unhinged lunatic who had posed as Alastor Moody for the entire year. He always pushed back the niggling little voice that told him the man should have been able to give testimony. That damn Dementor had kissed him before he had the chance. But Fudge couldn't deny the relief that poured through him when he realized Crouch could no longer speak. If he couldn't testify, he couldn't claim that his master had returned. Potter was said to have been very proficient in his class - obviously, Crouch must have been teaching him his evil ways. How else could Potter have got one over Diggory?
But Dumbledore had been extremely unhelpful. There was obviously something wrong with his mind - something very, very wrong. Even after being given more doses of Veritaserum than he technically should have been, he refused to tell the real truth - only his own version of it. According to him, Harry Potter was not a murderer and You-Know-Who was back. Fudge knew it was all fake, every last bit of it.
Dumbledore had even offered to give him his memories, but Fudge scoffed. Dumbledore's prowess at magic was legendary, and he wouldn't put it past the old codger to falsify every memory he presented to the Minister to agree with his fake notions. His delusions were obviously strong enough that he still spoke them under the Veritaserum, so why should his memories be trusted?
But he did know of several Healers at Saint Mungo's who were said to be absolutely brilliant at mind magic. There were three of them in particular that he knew of - their success rate in fixing the minds of addled patients was astounding. He hadn't even needed to tell the Aurors which ones he meant - they were said to be the best three Mind Healers in the entire hospital. If he could order them to look at Dumbledore and get back to him with the results, he would be extremely grateful. He had plenty of Galleons he could pay them with, as well. That ought to go a long way.
He considered his course of action, and knew what it would entail. Healers Pollander and Shaddock would do the work, tell Fudge the obvious results, and then the Aurors would question him again. Once he confessed to Harry's lies, Healer Dixon would then make sure everything was okay in his mind. He was sure the Healers wouldn't cause any damage, but he knew he should still take precautionary measures.
But everything went pear-shaped on the first day that the Mind Healers had been doing their job. He was aware that both men who were doing the bulk of the work had a very negative attitude towards Dumbledore; they made no bones about that. With Healer Dixon, he wasn't sure, but he would only be checking to make sure that no damage had been done. All of this helped Fudge's case tremendously. If those two had loved Dumbledore, he wouldn't have chosen them to do this important job.
But when both men had walked into the Minister's office with grim looks on their faces, Fudge knew the news wasn't good. The fear that had swamped him in that moment was unlike anything he'd ever felt before, worse than in the days of the First War, worse than when he'd seen the Diggory boy's body, worse than when he'd seen the Dark Mark, stained a disgusting black color, on Snape's arm.
"It's true, Minister. He's back. There's no doubt about it."
They had then proceeded to tell Fudge some absolutely horrific details. Sirius Black was innocent. Peter Pettigrew was alive. These were facts that Fudge had denied for an entire year.
Harry Potter was not a murderer. It was Peter Pettigrew, on You-Know-Who's orders, that had murdered Cedric Diggory. Severus Snape had indeed resumed spying on You-Know-Who for Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix. And Dumbledore was almost positive that Harry Potter had been taken into hiding by none other than Sirius Black himself.
And Fudge knew that if any of this got out, any of it at all, his career would be ground to dust. He would be a disgrace to the wizarding world. He'd be thought of as the worst Minister of Magic in history. He would be a laughingstock throughout the entirety of wizarding Britain.
And Cornelius simply would not allow it to happen. He'd worked too hard, come too far. He refused to allow Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore to come out as the heroes of this story. Dumbledore didn't know what was going on in his school, and Harry Potter was too powerful and too dangerous to mingle with the rest of society.
And as he looked into the eyes of the two Mind Healers, Shaddock had only said four words to him, and Pollander had nodded.
"We can change everything."
And Fudge, scared and desperate and enraged by the turn of events, had nodded fervently.
But bloody Dumbledore had still refused to comply. Each day, the Healers experimented on Dumbledore's mind, but every time he was put under questioning, his stubbornness grew progressively worse, according to his Aurors. By the tenth day, he refused to talk at all. His eyes would stare blankly ahead, and he'd say nothing. Nothing at all.
So Fudge had asked Healer Dixon to take a look inside Dumbledore's mind to make sure everything was okay. Several hours later he had returned, telling the Minister that everything was just fine. In a disgusted tone, he had admitted that he loathed the man, and relayed that Dumbledore was just being obstinate. Dixon hadn't been aware of what Fudge had asked the others to do, and was tempted to tell him. But he decided to hold his cards close - the less people who knew, the better. But with anger coursing through his veins, Fudge realized that all the work Pollander and Shaddock had done hadn't made the slightest bit of difference. Dumbledore was still holding onto his memories - for once, the Healers hadn't been able to penetrate the old man's defenses.
And then, he'd disappeared. The Aurors had been searching high and low for him, but there was not a trace of him anywhere. It was as though he'd completely vanished.
He'd questioned all three Mind Healers, but none of them knew anything. All three of them had reiterated how much they loathed Dumbledore, so if anyone wanted to find him, it was those three. He trusted them to tell him the truth, and within a day of them being questioned, he was sure they had had nothing to do with Dumbledore's escape.
Fudge sighed in anger and frustration, wondering how much longer this would go on. He was desperate for Dumbledore to be caught, and for the Mind Healers to work even harder at their task.
"Cornelius Fudge."
The Minister, shocked, looked up from his paperwork. He'd heard Amelia Bones angry before, but never like this. And when he had seen her angry, she had never directed it at him in such a fashion. Her eyes were flashing, filled with the most corrosive fury he had ever seen. She had three Aurors with her - Kingsley Shacklebolt, Sturgis Podmore, and Hestia Jones. Sturgis was keeping his decorum, but his eyes gave away his rage. Hestia was not hiding her anger at all; it was clearly displayed on her face. Kingsley, like Sturgis, was calm on the surface, but his eyes contained a disgust so deep that Fudge cringed away from his gaze.
The words that came out of Amelia Bones's mouth next made Fudge go white with fear. "Minister Cornelius Fudge, you are under arrest," she boomed, her anger filling the entire room.
"Wh-what?" Fudge stammered, his eyes unbelievably wide. "Under arrest? But I'm the Minister of Magic! You can't arrest me!"
"We can, and we will," Kingsley said in his low, deep voice. "Incarcerous!"
Fudge was so horrified that he did not think to dodge the spell that came at him. He'd been in the process of getting to his feet when it hit him, binding his hands and feet together in magical rope.
"What are you doing? You can't do this!" Fudge bellowed. "What are you doing?"
Amelia stared at him, her eyes full of an endless amount of venom. "Shut up, Minister," she said viciously, and Fudge heard the pleasure in her voice. It sounded like she was finally able to tell him how she really felt.
"Silencio." Hestia pointed her wand at him. "You are already in enough trouble. I take it you don't wish to embarrass yourself, on top of it."
As the three Aurors dragged the Minister of Magic to where the holding cells were located, people stared. Some had heard his screams as he was being arrested, and they came out of their cubicles to gaze in open-mouthed wonder at the spectacle that was taking place in front of them.
"What is the meaning of this?" Percy Weasley's livid voice demanded. "Let the Minister go!"
"Stay out of this, Weasley," Kingsley barked. "This does not concern you."
"But ..." Percy protested. "Minister, what is going on?"
"Mr. Weasley, please do not interfere with this proceeding," Sturgis said quietly. "Or we will have to arrest you, too."
Percy shut up at this, his face turning pale. He disappeared back into his office, his shoulders slumped and his face fearful.
Fudge's worst fears came to fruition when he was led to a holding cell, the very one Albus Dumbledore had been placed in. Before the door was slammed on him and he was left to wait for the inevitable, he saw what he had been expecting, and dreading, to see.
Healers Shaddock and Pollander had been gazing through the cell bars, their faces expressionless as they stared at the Minister of Magic.
And Fudge knew, in that precise, terrible moment, that this was the end. His gamble had failed.
His career was over.